We Get On
by comesatyoufast
Summary: Kurt thinks over his relationship with Finn. Set after "Theatricality." Oneshot.


**We Get On**

Lovely, wasn't it? Wasn't it just spectacularly lovely, that stupid look he got whenever he saw her? Like a dog after you wave a stick in its face. Its ears perk up, its eyes widen, and sometimes it starts to drool. And all of these disgustingly endearing qualities graced the face of Finn Hudson at the mere sight of Rachel Berry.

And such a look of complete vulnerability and honest infatuation was almost intoxicating. The way his dark eyes would watch her every move, memorize her every detail as if she were an exquisite piece of art, not some girl dressed like a five-year-old on her first day of school. His mouth would slip into the most charming half-smile, and I could feel myself want to just melt, and wish with every fiber of my being that it were _me_ he was looking at, not her.

And now, as Rachel skipped to the front of the room to begin a number, I was watching Finn.

He was even more beautiful when he sang. When he danced he looked like an idiot, but when he was just singing, the look on his face was brilliant. And, each time I watched his lips move with the lyrics, I couldn't help but wonder what they tasted like. And the same thought occurred to me as my eyes made their way to his neck, and then to his shoulders, so strong and broad and _straight_.

I was hoping, hoping, hoping, he'd make his way to the drums, because I could think of nothing hotter in the entire world. I wanted him so badly, and there was no way I'd ever have him. I should snap out of this stupid little dream, and move on to reality.

He was right. I wasn't being sneaky; I was as transparent as can be! I was sitting here, a hopeless naïveté, wishing that magically I could turn a heterosexual, a-typical quarterback into my boyfriend.

Even if he happened to crush upon Rachel Berry, I was still a long way from ever making him _mine_.

I was stupid for ever thinking I could have him. And his outburst in our — my — bedroom sealed that fate. I should hate him for what he said to me. I shouldn't still be able to look at him and feel my body unwillingly sigh, but I did despite myself.

And his offer to help me after my run-in with the bullies messed with my head, I suppose, because I snapped right back into loving him. It was faster than Puck's attention span.

What could even make me think that we would ever be meant to be? I mean, my affinity and affluence for style was so _obviously_ a stark contradiction to Finn. And, while we both shared football and glee, our methods of working both of them were quite different. And then there was the fact that he was into girls, and I am not a girl.

But you can't blame a guy for trying, right? I mean, just look at him. If Rachel was seriously stupid enough to let him trail after her without even a fleeting glance, she did not deserve him. Why waste her time with Jesse St. James, our enemy, no matter where he lives or how attractive he was, when she had this amazing, available guy right in front of her?

I'd kill to be in her shoes. Well, not really her shoes, I'd kill myself before being in her actual shoes. But to have Finn drooling after me for a change would be… extraordinary.

I was stuck over here, in my body, with this horrible crush on a boy who will never, ever love me back. No matter how many times I will it to happen. No matter how many times I watch him in the hall as he walks past. No matter how many times I hear him sing. None of it will ever change that he won't ever feel the same way about me that I do about him.

As he exited the group to sing with Rachel, his eyes never left hers. Mine never left him. I smiled at the great way his shirt fit him, and at the awkward way he moved, and at the gorgeous sound of his voice.

And then I frowned, because… this was it for us. We never even made it on stage, and had barely seen each other behind the curtain. There wasn't ever going to be a 'Kurt + Finn 4Ever' carved on a tree, like in some stereotypical teen movie.

I tried to tell myself that I'd be okay with that. But I wasn't.

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